Welcome to Hell or High School
by actualrealitytheory
Summary: Mark is the new kid. High school with the Rent kids... oh boy, this will be interesting.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys! It's Fizz and Friz, and this is Welcome to Hell... or High School reposted from Friz's penname (overthemoon07). We just figured it'd be easier for us if we had a joint account. Anyway, enjoy, and we have more than one chapter for you at once! Yeah, and all of these characters don't belong to us (except Astin, and even his face doesn't belong to Fizz, even though she wouldn't mind owning Randy Harrison...) Just to let you all know.  
_

Mark Cohen pushed his glasses up his pale nose, trying to ignore the way his stomach was doing flips in his abdomen. He could feel sweat forming on his brow. Clearing his throat, he tossed the end of his striped scarf over his shoulder before climbing up the stairs of his new school. West High, creative name. He could practically feel his inspiration draining as he entered the main hall. Of course, school normally did that to him, but the newness of the building he was in just made him feel… empty. What a way to start his career here.

However, as he followed the neatly printed signs that pointed him to the office, he passed an open door. Faint guitar music was wafting from the room, accompanied by keyboards, drumbeats, and two voices. Peeking around the door, Mark saw a group of three boys, one playing acoustic guitar, one on keyboards and the other softly beating a bongo. Somehow, the three instruments merged nicely, as did the voices of the guitarist and keyboardist. Mark watched them for a few moments. A slight smile turned the corners of his thin lips up. If there were people like this here, then maybe not all hope was lost.

The spell was broken by a locker slamming, and Mark straightened up. He cleared his throat and continued on his way, thinking of the interesting picture that the boys had made. The first one, the guitarist, had spiked blond hair, roots showing slightly where he had bleached it. His nails were black, and Mark had seen a tattoo peeking out from his short-sleeved ACDC shirt. The keyboardist was also blond, though his was natural and shaggy, falling into his eyes as he played. His fingers flowed over the keys, seemingly unhindered by the numerous silver rings adorning them. The drummer was something different altogether. Hispanic, thin, feminine features and a bright blue and purple shirt that no straight boy would be caught dead in. He brought a little flavor to the group, even without his funky drumming style. He was so caught up in his mental description of the musicians that he nearly bypassed the office altogether. However, a large black boy shoved his shoulder as he passed, alerting him back to reality. The other boy growled a "Watch where you're going" before continuing on his way.

Mark swallowed and adjusted his glasses again. Despite the presence of the musicians, he had the feeling that today was going to be a long day,

* * *

Roger strummed a final chord, letting it fade slowly with the keyboard as the bongo fluttered down softly. It was another moment before his eyes opened to see his band mates looking equally as peaceful. They hadn't been playing in the mornings for long, but once they had started, Roger found it as invigorating as his morning coffee. He felt a beatific grin spread on his lips, mimicking his keyboardist's expression. The drummer, however, was always a different story. Angel was bouncing, for lack of a better term, behind his bongos. 

"That was our best yet, I think!" Angel smiled widely, adjusting the bracelets that ran halfway up his arm. Roger shook his head fondly. The Latino always had too much energy in the morning, in his opinion.

The boy sitting behind the keyboard laughed softly. "You say that every morning, _magnifique_," he murmured, leaning over to kiss Angel's cheek gently. Astin and Angel were rather open about their relationship. They got shit for it sometimes, but whenever someone gave them a hard time in Roger's presence, the heckler walked away with either insults being hurled at them or a black eye. They insisted that Roger didn't need to protect them, but he still did it. Roger looked after his own, and Astin and Angel were definitely part of 'his own.'

Everyone else saw Roger as an unmotivated, lazy, arrogant asshole who wasn't going anywhere in life but the local gas station. But his own, his friends knew different. He was fiercely loyal, fiercely dedicated to his music and fiercely determined that he was going to make it in the music industry. Every time he thought of his future, his band, he couldn't help but smile.

But right now, his life was pretty good. He had Astin and Angel to jam with, he had a gorgeous girlfriend and he had his guitar. Sure, he had a shitty home life and a slut who chased him at every turn, but really, those things paled in comparison with what he did have. He set his guitar to the side and stretched lightly, looking over at his friends. Angel was currently in Astin's lap, their foreheads pressed together, hands clasped between their chests as they shared short, soft kisses. "Hey you two, any chance I can talk to you before the bell rings?" he called out, teasing. Angel pulled back, grinning, still seated in his boyfriend's lap.

"Don't take it out on us, just 'cause your _Chiquita_ isn't here, Roger," he teased back. Astin rubbed Angel's back lightly.

"Yeah, where is Mo, anyway?"

Roger sighed. "She said she had to show some new kid around the school. Classrooms, gym, shit like that." He frowned a bit. "Thought she'd be back by now though. She said she would bring him by here, introduce us."

* * *

"And this," Maureen took another deep breath before trudging down the hall, dragging the scrawny blond boy behind her. "Is the art wing. There's Mrs. Robinson's room and Mrs. Labbe, Mr. Drew… he's fabulous," she giggled, flapping her hand slightly as they continued down. Mark nodded, chuckling nervously as the girl blabbed on. 

He was trying to take in everything she was talking about, but she talked so god damned fast. There were so many names and hallways and cliques to remember, Mark just hoped she wouldn't quiz him later. Finally, she paused, giving Mark a chance to catch his breath and fish his crumpled schedule out of his pocket while Maureen checked her cell phone. She muttered something under her breath before her fingers flew over the keypad. Mark shook his head, letting a small smile rest on his lips for the first time since his mother had informed him that the family was moving to New York.

"Alright, last stop, I promise," she chirped, stuffing her phone back into her pocket before grabbing his arm again. "It's right down the hall."

Before Mark could protest, she'd charged off again, dragging him like a rag doll behind her. Luckily, class hadn't started yet and the halls were fairly empty. Mark was thankful for that. He was pretty sure he'd have been plowed over otherwise.

"This is the chorus room," she turned her head to tell him as they approached an open door. Mark nodded, the room looking familiar. He'd been there earlier that morning, before having met the bubbling ball of energy who called herself Maureen. Slowly, Mark poked his head around the doorway, set on easing his way in, not wanting to interrupt the rehearsal. But Maureen blast by, grabbing his arm again and dragging him inside.

"Hi baby," she chirped, turning towards the bleach blond boy. He smiled, taking his guitar out of his lap and standing. Mark felt his cheeks flush as the boy smiled, something stirring in his stomach right up to the point where Maureen planted a big kiss on his lips. Mark sighed, but smiled nonetheless, standing quite awkwardly while his tour guide made out with who appeared to be her boyfriend.

"Roger, this is Mark," she said, stepping back and motioning to the boy. "Mark, this is Roger. And Angel and Astin."

Mark turned his attention up towards the piano bench where the other two boys were cuddling and waved shyly.

"Mark," Roger nodded, extending his hand. Mark stared for a moment before coming out of his trance and shaking it.

"Nice to meet you," the Latino boy grinned from the lap of his boyfriend.

"Uh, you, too," Mark smiled.

"Mark moved here from New Jersey," Maureen announced, wrapping an arm around Roger. "He's a little bit shy."

This caused Mark to flush an even deeper shade of scarlet that Roger didn't know was humanly possible. He scuffed his sneaker against the grey carpet, his backpack now dangling from one shoulder and shrugged slightly.

"It's okay," Angel smiled. "So is Maureen."

Mark tried muffle a laugh, which caused him to snort, sending Angel into a fit of giggles as well. Mark sighed, feeling a bit more relaxed than before. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought after all.

* * *

The morning hadn't been that bad. He'd wound up in honors chemistry (he had no idea why) but the teacher seemed cool, if not a bit strict. The blond guy, Astin had been in his class. Luckily, Astin hadn't had a lab partner already, so the teacher paired them together. Mark felt a little more at ease around Astin after a while, finding his dry sarcasm highly entertaining. While they worked on combining chemicals in just the right order, Astin had talked about his relationship with Angel. They weren't the only gay couple at the school, but they certainly got the most shit for it in Mark's humble opinion from the hints Astin dropped. He was curious as to why, but he didn't want to push his luck by asking. 

His second class of the day was English with Ms. Carlson, who was fantastic. His classmates, sadly, were not. None of his new friends were in this class, but unfortunately, the boy who Mark accidentally ran into earlier was. He shot him dirty looks the entire class, making Mark cringe. The paler boy could hear him talking to his equally large buddies while a thin Latino girl clung to his arm, looking at Mark curiously. Once the bell rang, Mark gathered his things as quickly as he could, intent on not running into the boy again. No such luck.

The black guy sidled in front of him, backing him up against a locker. "What's your name, new kid?" he asked in a low, smooth voice. Mark gulped inaudibly, eyes flicking to the posse behind him.

"M-Mark," he stuttered, cursing his shaking voice. He reached up to push his glasses up his nose again, making the other boy smirk.

"Well, M-Mark, you'd do well to learn that it's not very… acceptable at this school to go plowing over the star quaterback." His friends laughed and jeered at his mock-stutter. "Good one, Benny!" one of them cheered.

Benny reached out, and immediately, the skinny girl from before sidled up to him. He dropped his arm around her shoulders, his hand barely brushing her chest. Mark's eyes followed his hand, and when Benny noticed, he pushed the girl behind him, ignoring her soft squeak. "Be quiet, Mimi, I've gotta teach the new kid that it's also not nice to ogle someone else's girlfriend…"

Mark's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "But I - " Mark didn't have time to protest as Benny shoved him back into the lockers. He collided painfully with the metal, looking up helplessly as Benny's arm drew back.

"Hey!" Every face in the group turned towards the person yelling. Another, older man was coming down the hall, an angry expression on his face. "Detention, Coffin!" he called. Benny immediately tried to protest, but he was silenced with a wave of a hand. "The rest of you, scatter. Unless you want to join Mr. Coffin…" The other boys quickly departed, as did Mimi after a moment. "You two, with me."

Mark followed Benny and the older man (he assumed he was a teacher) down the hall. By the time he got into the room, the teacher was writing on a pink slip of paper, giving it to Benny once he was done. "I'll see you this afternoon, and be glad I'm not reporting this." Benny scowled at him, leaving with a grumble. Mark lingered near the door, unsure of why he was here.

The teacher smiled warmly at him. "Come in, I don't bite. I'm Mr. Collins, I teach philosophy." Mark hesitantly stepped in, sitting at one of the front desks. It was then that he got a good look at the older man. He was extremely handsome, with warm chocolate skin and eyes to match. He was a bit imposing because of his bigger frame, but everything was in perspective, creating one of the more attractive men Mark had seen in his life. "And you are…"

Mark stared for a moment more before shaking his head slightly to clear it. "Mark. Mark Cohen. I'm, uh, new here."

"Thought you might be. I know most of the kids in this school by sight, but you didn't seem familiar. So, why was he trying to hit you?"

Again, it took him a moment to answer, this time distracted by his mellow, soothing voice. "I ran into him earlier, and he thought I was ogling his girlfriend… like I'd be interested…" With his eyes downcast, he didn't notice the flutter of a smile cross the teacher's lips. Collins was about to say something when another bell rang. "I, uh, better get to my next class," Mark murmured, looking back up at the teacher. "Thanks, Mr. Col-"

"Just call me Collins. Everyone does. Come visit me sometime, Mark. I'd like to talk to you some more." Mark grinned, stepping down firmly on the urge to blush. They both stood, walking to the door. Collins clasped Mark's shoulder for the briefest of moments right as he walked out. When he reached his next class a few minutes later, he could still feel the warmth of Collins's hand through his sweater.

* * *

Mark sighed as he pushed through the open doors and stepped outside onto the walk way. He'd survived his first day at West High amazingly enough. He'd been having nightmares for weeks about getting lost or tripping down stairs and spilling everything everywhere… even going to school naked. Today had gone much better than he'd expected, with the exception of his run in with Benny, but even that had turned out okay in the end. 

He was about to head towards his bus when something clunked him in the head from behind. Mark winced, clutching the back of his head before turning around to find out what had been thrown. His face dropped as well as the notebook he was carrying as the large bully stepped forward, his gang of ghouls close behind. On the ground at Mark's feet sat a football.

Benny laughed as Mark leaned over to pick it up, smacking his buddy in the chest and conjuring up a round of chuckles from his posse. "That's right, Cohen, pick it up." Benny held his hand out, waiting for the ball to be returned.

Mark held onto it, staring at Benny, unable to move. His knees locked up, hands sweating as he clutched the ball.

"Gimme the ball," Benny growled, taking a step forward. Again, the blond didn't move and Benny took another step forward, his hand forming into a fist. Mark's mind was screaming at him - _hand over the ball, moron, before we get clobbered! - _but the neurons wouldn't fire.

"Give him the ball," a voice squeaked from behind. Mark's eyes darted up in time to see Mimi, Benny's girlfriend, cover her face with her hands.

Mark turned his attention back to the fist that threatened to smash his face in. His eyes widened, grip on the ball tightened and the fist flew. Squeezing his eyes shut, Mark ducked, hoping that there was a slight chance that he could escape another bloody nose. He didn't have the money for a new pair of glasses either. A yelp rang through the air and Mark, unsure if it was he who had made the noise, opened an eye. He could see, there was no blood on the ground. Tipping his head up, he saw Benny's fist with another fist clenched around it. Behind him stood the rocker from before, Maureen's boyfriend, Roger. A tight grimace stretched across his face, a growl rumbling in his throat.

"Back off, Coffin," he snarled, giving Mark a nudge as he gripped Benny's fist tighter.

Mark snuck out from between the two boys, standing up straight, eyes wide as he found he was still clutching the football. The look on Benny's face was priceless but Mark was too scared to laugh. Benny finally managed to shake free of Roger's grip.

"Oh, what's he, your body guard?" Benny snickered. "Your boyfriend? Davis has himself a boyfriend."

"Fuck off," Roger growled, taking a step towards Benny, who winced and shuttered. "Leave the kid alone. I suggest you run along to your little detention and don't touch him again. Or you'll answer to me." Roger reached over and ripped the football out of Mark's hands and chucked it hard at Benny, who caught it, groaning quietly.

He opened his mouth to rebuttal, but closed it and scowled before waving his group off and turning back towards the parking lot. Mimi waved over her shoulder at Roger when Benny wasn't looking before scurrying off after him.

"Uh, th-thanks," Mark managed when he could speak again.

"No problem," Roger smiled, whacking his shoulder lightly. "Benny's an asshole. Don't worry about it. Need a ride home?"

Mark turned in time to watch the busses rolling out of the drive way. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Alright, come on, Cohen," he chuckled, throwing an arm around the kid before steering him off towards the parking lot.

* * *

Angel and Astin strolled out of the front doors just in time to see Roger leading Mark off to the parking lot, arm around his shoulders. Angel felt a small smile bloom on his lips, an expression that faded quickly when he saw Benny strolling towards them, Mimi on his arm. As always, Benny shoved his shoulder into Angel's, making him stumble. "Fags," the quarterback coughed, starting a round of laughter from his friends. 

Astin caught Angel around the waist. Pulling the smaller boy back against him, he glared at Benny and the other jocks. "Yes. We are fags. Homos. Cocksuckers. Fairies, if you prefer. We remember that quite well without you reminding us, Coffin," he spat, holding his boyfriend protectively. Angel's eyes remained on Mimi, pleading with her silently to call off her boyfriend before his ended up with another black eye. Mimi, for once, relented and tugged gently on Benny's arm.

"Come on, Ben, you don't want more trouble. Let's go." Benny rolled his eyes but gave in to Mimi's plea.

"See you around, faggots." With that, his posse disbanded. Astin turned Angel around in his arms, holding him close. Angel buried his face in Astin's neck. Even after months of run-ins with Coffin, it still upset Angel quite a bit.

"Shh, _magnifique_…" he soothed, rubbing Angel's back as he buried his face in the blond's neck. Angel's shaking subsided under Astin's touch and constant chant in soothing French. For the millionth time, Astin wished he had Roger's balls or strength or.. .something. Something to help him stand up to that bastard. He couldn't stand what he did to Angel, how he upset him. But instead of beating the shit out of Coffin like he wanted to, he held Angel, planting kisses on his scalp to calm him.

"Ast? Ang? You guys okay?" Astin looked up from Angel to see Maureen barreling down the stairs towards them. Angel sniffed, raising his head out of Astin's neck. "Angel? Baby, what's wrong?" She slung an arm around Angel's shoulder, Astin's arm still firmly around his waist.

Astin growled softly. "Fucking Coffin and his cronies."

Maureen let out a soft scream of outrage. "That bastard! I swear, someday I am going to kick him so hard in the balls that it'll take him a week to find 'em again!" Angel, despite his upset, laughed. The small sound brought a smile to Astin's lips. It usually took him a while before he could Angel to smile again, so he was grateful for Maureen's impassioned threat.

"Would be greatly appreciated, Mo. Let me know when you plan on doing it, I'd like to see it," Astin said dryly. Angel laughed again, snuggling into Astin's side. "You okay, baby?" The slight Latino nodded, but Astin could tell he wanted to leave. "We're gonna head out, Maureen. See you later?"

Maureen sighed huffily. "Yeah, I guess. Where's Roger?"

"He left, with that new kid. Benny was harassing him and Roger called him off."

A soft, surprising smile bloomed on Maureen's face. "He did? Ah, well then, I am prepared to forgive him for stranding me here. I'll hitch a ride home with Joanne after rehearsal." She giggled softly. "Bye guys."

Astin waved, still holding Angel close, one hand stroking his hip. "Bye Mo." Gently, he turned Angel around and started leading him to his car. Other than Angel, his car was the most treasured thing in his life. Angel and Roger teased him mercilessly about loving his restored-but-still-shitty '65 Thunderbird. It roared to life a moment later, the radio blasting out the local rock station. Astin, still seeing traces of fear and upset in Angel's eyes, leaned over and took his hand, bringing it to his lips. "Je t'aime," he murmured softly.

Angel smiled, his heart melting. "Te amo, querido, para siempre." With a satisfied smile, Astin let go of his hand and set about pulling out of the parking lot.

* * *

"Thanks for the lift, Jo," Maureen shouted over her shoulder as she slammed the door to the light green Civic, hoisting her bag up over her shoulder. With a wave, she turned and headed up the walk way, humming softly. As she approached the door, her fist lifted to rap at the door, knocking not being something she did often. 

Roger groaned softly, awakened by the noise at the front door, and rolled off the couch, scuffing towards the door. He'd barely gotten it open when Maureen burst in, ranting and raving already, chucking her bag down onto his feet. He hissed before following her, unable to get a word in edgewise as his girlfriend hollered, kicking her sneakers off as well.

"Woah, woah," Roger finally shouted, cutting her off. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging gently before rubbing his eyes. "First of all," he murmured, his hands stretching forward, sliding over her cheeks and pulling her forward. Roger pressed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back and smiling. "There. Second of all, could you repeat that… slower?"

Maureen grinned, kissing him back and dropping down onto the couch. "Fucking Benny," she began.

"Oh, don't get me started. I saved your friend there, Mark, from getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter after school there."

"I know," she beamed, reaching over and squeezing his knee. "Angel and Astin told me. I'm proud of you, baby."

Roger grinned, tugging her into his lap. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, leaning in and kissing her neck.

"Well, after he terrorized Marky, he deemed it necessary to harass Ang and Ast. Angel was nearly in tears. I swear to God, I'm gonna castrate that boy. I will kick him so hard…"

Roger chuckled softly against her neck, his stubble scratching against her.

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked, offended. "Roger Davis, I-"

"I'm not, I'm not," he laughed, wrapping his arms around her. "You're just so damned cute. I know you could kick his ass. I feel bad for the day he crosses you."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, relaxing back into his arms. "I just don't get him. Douche bag."

"Don't worry, baby. Karma's a bitch."


	2. Chapter 2

_lyrics used in this chapter are by Duncan Sheik!_

Collins always enjoyed the school in the morning. Well, he never really enjoyed the school to begin with, but it was more tolerable without the students there, and in the gray light of the morning, it seemed almost peaceful. The halls and rooms were silent as he walked to his classroom, two bags slung over his shoulders and a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. As soon as he got to his room, he slipped a CD into his stereo. With the press of a button, he had soothing jazz music filling his room softly. He hummed along as he set down his coffee and spread papers over his desk, ready to be corrected. It was his morning routine, doing work in the morning as opposed to at night. Then, he found he preferred more… relaxing activities.

Usually, no one interrupted him until ten minutes before the first bell, when his first class started trickling in. So the knock at 7:30 surprised him. Collins looked up, disoriented from the convoluted philosophical theory of fifteen year olds. "Mr. Cohen?" A smile lit his face when he saw the blond standing timidly in his doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Uh, hi Collins… I- Sorry for interrupting, but my mom dropped me off early and I have nothing else to do and you asked me to stop by sometime - "

Collins cut him off with a laugh and a raised hand. "It's okay, Mark. I could use the break. Have a seat." He got up, grabbing his coffee cup on the way. "Do you want some coffee?" Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Mark slumping in a desk in the front row, looking like he had rolled out of bed and not woken up yet. Tired blue eyes peered at him from behind square glasses and he nodded. Chuckling to himself, Collins poured some of the java into a paper cup, bringing it (along with creamer and sugar) to the desk Mark had chosen. The boy was drinking it gratefully by the time Collins had sat again. "So, where'd you move here from?"

Mark pushed his glasses up his nose. "New Jersey. Butler, New Jersey to be specific." Collins found himself grinning at how Mark's hair stood up crazily after he ran a hand through it.

"Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well… my dad got a new job around here, but…" The teacher's brows knitted together in concern when Mark hesitated to say more. "You won't tell anyone, right?"

Collins leaned forward, putting his chin on his laced fingers. "Of course not, Mark. Whatever you say in here will be held in confidence, if you prefer."

The blond sighed, running a hand over his hair. "There w-was an… incident at my old school. My parents thought it best to relocate, since my sister's in college and all it didn't affect her and… yeah."

An incident? Collins thought about that for a moment. What could have possibly happened to this shy, small boy to make his family move away for his own good? Or maybe it wasn't for his own good, but a way for his parents to save face? He opened his mouth to ask more when the bell rang. Mark, clearly uncomfortable now, muttered a goodbye and dashed out, coffee still in hand. Collins almost called out after him but stopped. If he hadn't been intrigued by one Mark Cohen before, he sure was now.

* * *

Maureen sighed as she tumbled out of the car the next morning, tugging her bag out behind her and slamming the door. _Coffee would be nice…_ She swerved around to the other side, linking arms with the boy who tumbled out just as clumsily.

"Being on time to school is overrated," Roger groaned as they wandered out of the parking lot.

"No shit," she murmured. "I fucking hate mornings."

Roger nodded in agreement, rubbing his eyes and dragging his feet. "We should skip first block more often. But for now, I've gotta go meet Angel and Astin. Rehearsal again."

"Okay, see you at lunch, baby," Maureen said, pecking his cheek before the two parted ways. Maureen turned to head up the stairs, intent on getting to her locker before the rush of freshmen girls gathered to adjust their lip gloss. "God, there are way too many steps," she puffed as she raced up them. Just as the words were leaving her lips, a rush of blond nerves barreled past her, nearly knocking her off of her feet.

"Hey, asshole! Watch where you're - Mark!"

"Maureen!" Mark exclaimed, grabbing onto the railing to catch his fall.

Maureen giggled, running back down the steps to meet him. She tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear, adjusting her backpack strap. "What's the hurry, baby?"

Mark felt his cheeks burn at the nickname as he tried desperately to catch his breath. His fingers reached up to push his glasses further up his nose, but were shaking too badly and he poked himself in the eye.

"Damn it," he hissed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, feeling sweat building on his neck and brow. "Uh… I don't know…" he mumbled, laughing nervously.

"Are you alright?" she asked, cocking her head curiously.

"Yeah, great, m'fine. Just great. Wonderful. Uh, sorry Maureen, I gotta get to class. See you at lunch?" he asked before shuffling off, running back down the stairs.

"Mark! Mark!" she shouted, leaning over the railing. "You better!"

She paused and watched as he scurried out the door, shaking her head before turning and dashing up into the hallway.

* * *

_Oh wake me, I want to see the daylight_

_Save me from this half-life_

_Let's you and I escape_

_Escape from time_

_Well, come on let's fall in love_

_Well, come on let's fall in love_

_Come on, let's fall in love_

_Again._

Angel looked over at his boyfriend. God, there was something about his voice… it was so soft and sensual, but still powerful. Maybe it was just because they were dating. He shrugged, ending the song with a soft roll of his bongos. Astin and Roger both looked at him as one. They always said that it was amusing to watch him just after a song, when he was still bouncing to the beat. Apparently some people just didn't understand Angel's constant fuel of energy. If he didn't keep bouncing, who knew what would happen.

Astin got up and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around his neck from behind, chin resting on Angel's head. Roger chuckled at the position. "Well, I guess that tells me who's on top," he joked, slipping his guitar strap over his head.

Angel _felt_ the bright red blush rise in his cheeks. Astin, however, laughed and smirked at the guitarist. "You'd be surprised, Rog… Angel's pretty feisty when it comes to that type of thing," he muttered. Playfully, he growled and nipped the top of Angel's ear. Angel squeaked in surprise, hitting Astin's arm lightly.

"Astin Lucian!"

Roger just groaned and laughed good-naturedly. "Whoa, little bit too much info there, man." He deliberately looked away as Astin continued his attack on Angel's ear. His eyes fell on the bulletin board… the one that was usually empty… Intrigued, Roger got up and went over to the poster, reading it carefully. "Guys… guys!" he called when they seemingly didn't hear him (although, Angel had an excuse: Astin was still biting his ear.)

Angel rubbed his poor ear with a pout. "My ear hurts, you ass," he whined, shoving Astin lightly.

"Aww, _desol__é__, magnifique_… you're just so sweet, I want to eat you up…" Astin growled again, making Angel giggle.

"Ahem. If you two are finished being sickeningly romantic, I have good news." Both of them made faces at him before looking interested. "There's a battle of the bands coming up!" Huge, identical grins broke out on all three of their faces. Before they could start planning, the bell rang, signaling their first class. "Fuck. We'll talk about it at lunch, then…" With noises of agreement and a soft smacking of lips, Astin and Angel departed for their first class while Roger stayed put, thanking God for first block music theory… he could take a nap. Murray wouldn't care. He knew all this shit anyway.

"Morning Roger. We're gonna be in the lab today, so we'll be… interrupting you. Sorry, man." Murray patted his shoulder, ignoring Roger's groan. He wouldn't be getting his nap today after all.

* * *

Maureen grumbled as she slipped out of History class, having been just awoken by the bell to find that there was a three page paper due next class on the civil war. _Fuck that_, she thought as she dug around in her purse for some change. Lunch had to be her favorite period - plenty of time for socializing and eating and there was no homework. Her sneakers clunked across the tar as she crossed to the cafeteria and hurried to get in line. A disgusted look washed over her face as she poked around in the fridge of the snack bar line, searching for something edible. Settling on a salad, she grabbed a Pepsi and paid.

She grinned, seeing the large clump of bodies gathered around the usual table and she jogged over, wiggling in between Roger and Joanne, setting her lunch down onto the table. "Hi guys," she chirped, peeling off the lid of the plastic container.

"Hi Maur," Astin greeted, his arm securely around Angel, a chicken burger in his other hand.

"What is that?" Angel asked, noticing the strange looking lump of food in his boyfriend's hand.

"Chicken burger," he mumbled, his mouth full.

"That's disgusting," Angel replied, his face twisted in repulsion.

"It doesn't look like a chicken burger," Joanne pointed out, spooning up some yogurt.

"Oh, come on," Astin frowned, swallowing. "It tastes fine."

"Hey, where's Mark?" Maureen asked, noticing the empty space on Angel's side of the bench.

Angel and Astin exchanged looks before shrugging.

"I dunno, baby." Roger shook his head, busy scribbling on a notepad.

"What're you doing?" she asked, forgetting the lack of the filmmaker.

"Making plans," he replied. "There's a battle of the bands coming up."

"Oh, you guys are competing?" Maureen asked excitedly. "I'm totally going! We're going, Joanne," she said, turning to the girl beside her. "I'm going to make t-shirts and we'll wear them."

"As opposed to eating them," Astin smirked.

Maureen glared for a moment before continuing. "You guys are so going to win."

"Look guys, we have groupies," Roger grinned, wrapping an arm around Maureen and kissing her forehead.

"Oh, there's Mark," Angel pointed out, glancing over the sea of students and waving cheerfully to the blond.

"Hey guys," he panted, approaching the table. "Sorry I'm late. I had to… print something."

"You okay?" Maureen asked, cocking her head slightly.

"Uh, yeah," he sighed, taking the spot beside Angel.

"Hey, there's a battle of the bands," Maureen said, completely forgetting that he'd come late. "Joanne and I are going, right Jo?"

"Right," Joanne said, forcing a grin.

"You wanna come with us?"

"Uh," Mark fumbled, removing the foil from his supposedly turkey wrap. "Uh…"

"Okay, good," she chirped. "It'll be tons of fun."

"Yeah, Maur's making shirts," Astin pointed out, grinning.

"Fuck off," she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

Mark chuckled softly, eyes looking back down at his lunch as Maureen cleared her throat. This was definitely going to be interesting.

* * *

Angel waved goodbye to Mark after lunch, having left him at his math class. He headed off to philosophy with a spring in his step. He loved this class. Collins had to be the coolest teacher ever, even cooler than Mr. Murray. He had all these far-out theories, thinking way outside of the box that the school attempted to squish them into in every other class. He felt free to express himself in Collins's room, like no one in there would judge him. Well, at least Collins wouldn't. The other students… well… they judged him every minute of every day.

He paused outside of the door, lingering in the empty hallway. Leaning against a row of lockers, he fell into his thoughts, as he was prone to do. He thought about what had happened the day before. If it wasn't for his friends, and Astin, Angel had no idea where he would be by now. Probably in some institution or special school for kids who couldn't handle the pressure of their peers. He hated himself a little bit for not being able to keep his cool when things like that happened. Falling apart every time Benny heckled them or when people gave them disgusted looks or sneered at his bracelets and rings was not something he was proud of. He hated that Astin had to calm him down and keep him from crying and completely falling apart. Angel sighed sharply.

The bell jolted him out of his thoughts, and he slipped into Collins's room, taking his usual seat in the front. He was ready to kick some philosophical ass today. At least that was one ass that he could kick.

* * *

Astin tapped his pen impatiently against his notebook. He needed to write and he needed to do it now. All he wanted was some blank sheet music, a keyboard and Angel. He always wrote better when Angel was around to bounce ideas off of. He told Astin point-blank when something sucked, which he was grateful for. Thankfully, the bell rang only moments later. He sprinted out of the room, Maureen at his heels, hollering questions after him. "Astin!! Where the hell are you off to like your ass is on fire?"

The blond ignored her, making a beeline for the music room. He slipped into the music lab, waving to Mr. Murray as he passed his office. Astin tossed his bag on the ground before putting on a pair of headphones and setting his fingers on the keys. He picked out a soft, sweet melody, his boyfriend's face hovering in the black behind his closed eyes. He didn't even hear Maureen come in, muttering under her breath about crazy, piano-playing boys and how guitarists made much more sense. When he finally opened his eyes to start composing, he jumped a bit. "Mo! When, uh… when did you get here?"

"I followed you, dumbass. You were supposed to come out with me, Roger and Angel, remember? Thursday, we go get coffee and procrastinate?" She kicked his shin gently, raising her eyebrows at him.

He groaned. "Shit… Sorry, Mo, I'm gonna have to take a rain check… but send Angel down here, will you? I need him to be here."

She sighed, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Fine. Don't say I never did anything for you."

Astin grinned at her as she walked out. "Love ya, Maur!" He chuckled and turned back to the keyboard, pulling out some sheet music to scribble notes down. A melody appeared easily, but he fidgeted with his pencil, chewing on the end, awaiting Angel's arrival. His boyfriend would help make everything make sense.

* * *

Maureen shook her head as she left the music lab, grumbling to herself as she tried to think of where Roger might be at the moment. She'd already tried his car and he wasn't in the music lab with Astin.

"Detention," she sighed. "That moron."

She was not thrilled about having to climb the flight of stairs loaded down with binders and other books and cursed loudly as she approached the history wing. She paused for a moment, listening for voices. The faint bubbly laughter of Angel fluttered down the hallway and Maureen made a beeline for Collins' room. She lingered in the doorway quietly as Roger carried on a tense argument with the professor, debating whether or not black was actually a color.

"It is," Maureen grinned from the doorway, siding with Collins.

Roger frowned and sank back into his chair, sulking as Collins threw his arms up in a victory pose, Angel giggling as he did.

"Even the girlfriend is against you, Davis," Collins teased, sinking down into his rolling chair and gliding back behind his desk.

"Maur, come on," Roger groaned.

"Ang, Astin would like to see you," she said, ignoring the whines of her boyfriend. "He's down in the-"

"Music lab," Angel finished, smiling as he hopped down from Collins' desk. "See you guys later. We'll go for coffee tomorrow or something."

Maureen waved before dropping down on top of Roger's desk. "What'd you do this time?"

Roger glared up at her, still pouting and sighed.

"Skipped class," Collins said, flipping through his grade book, sliding his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.

"Dumbass," she said, whacking him in the back of the head gently. "You fucked up our coffee date."

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, folding his arms over his chest. "Don't hit me, woman."

"Don't take that tone with me," she scowled, sticking her finger in his face, fighting off a smile.

Roger glared at her, growling slightly before nipping at her finger.

"Alright you two," Collins scolded, not yet looking up from his grade book.

"Hey Collins," Roger said, his arms wrapping around Maureen's hips, glancing around his girlfriend. "Is there annnny chance you'd let me out of detention early?"

Collins scoffed, chuckling quietly, his eyes lifting from the notebook. "What's so important that you can't find time to hang out with me?"

"See, there's this thing next weekend-"

"The battle of the bands!" Maureen exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes, thank you baby. And my band is entering the contest."

"I'm going to watch!"

"And Astin is working on a new song. We need to rehearse and figure out who's singing and-"

"I'm making t-shirts!"

"And my fingers are itching. I gotta play, man. You know how it is."

"Joanne and Mark are going with me."

Collins folded his arms across the desk as Roger spoke, Maureen butting in every couple of words. His brow wrinkled slightly at the mention of the names. "Mark?" he asked, lowering his glasses on his nose.

"Yeah, Mark Cohen," she replied. "He's new."

"Yeah?" Collins asked. "What do you know about him?"

"He's nice. From Jersey. Kind of a nervous kid. I don't know him very well. I've been showing him around a bit."

Collins nodded, picking up on the way Roger stared, listening to the interaction. He figured he shouldn't be too nosey and dropped his gaze back down to the grade book.

"He in your class?" Roger asked, poking Maureen in the ribs, causing her to squirm and squeal.

"Hey, I'll let you out early this one time, Davis," Collins murmured. "You go practice, but you better win the contest, alright?"

"Yes! Thank you! We definitely will." Roger shot out of the desk, scooping up his bag and grabbing onto Maureen's hand. "You're the best!"

"Don't tell anyone about this," he murmured quietly. "Get out."

"Thanks again," he grinned, tugging Maureen towards the door. "We'll go get Astin and Angel real quick and get coffee…"

Collins shook his head, smiling as the couple left. He picked up his red pen and opened up the folder of to be corrected papers. He paused, taking the first essay out, Mark's face flashing through his head. He groaned softly, squeezing his eyes closed, resting his forehead in his hand. This could not be happening.

* * *

Mark collapsed on his bed with a sigh. Oh, fuck it had been a long two days. He was still nervous about being in the new school and new classes and a new town, but he had lucked out with the people he'd found .Maureen, Roger, Angel, Astin, Joanne… they all seemed like a sort of family. Mark would kill to have those kind of friends, the kind that wouldn't judge you or dump you the first time you did something really stupid. He'd never had those kind of friends. Sure, he'd had a few back in Jersey, but none of them were that close or loyal. They hadn't stuck by him through the… incident. They'd run at the first sign of trouble, leaving Mark to deal with all the shit on his own.

He took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. As he had been doing since it happened, he pushed the thoughts of that time into the back of his mind. Mark would put off telling his new friends about it until he couldn't avoid it anymore. He'd… He froze, a chill trickling down his spine. He'd almost been forced to tell that teacher, Collins this morning. His stomach turned at the thought of revealing what had happened.

Okay, happy thoughts, happy thoughts… Mark forced himself to think of what would be happening the next weekend. Battle of the bands. Astin had somehow found out about his hobby of filming, prompting Roger to beg him to film the concert. And of course, once he had agreed, Angel insisted on giving him a makeover. "Every part of the band had to be attractive, and that includes the promoters, Marky!" Maureen had backed him up. "Yeah, even the groupies will look hot, right, Joanne?"

Mark smiled tiredly, his eyes sliding shut. He loved that he had friends like that after one day. But for some reason, when he thought about school, the first face that popped into his mind was that of the teacher. Collins. He could feel his cheeks heating and his heart fluttering just thinking about him. Maybe it was hero worship or something like that. Mark certainly did not have a crush on him. No. He didn't. He couldn't. It was something like that that got him into trouble before.

Damnit. No. Mark rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow. No, he was going to find a nice Jewish girl and date her and marry her and have kids so his mother wouldn't have a heart attack… again. His loud, exasperated sigh was muffled into the pillow. This was a new start. So why did it feel like he was just going back to how he was before?


	3. Chapter 3

_warning: there's some gay bashing implied in the end of this chapter, just to warn everyone! disclaimer still applies._

"What are those?"

Astin wrinkled his nose at Maureen as she began emptying her brown grocery bags. She paused and frowned at him, her hands resting on her hips.

"They're t-shirts, dumbass," she growled, sticking her tongue out before tossing a shirt at Joanne.

Joanne giggled as she unfolded the yellow shirt, holding it up in front of her, eyes scanning the top. She bit her lip to keep from laughing . "Um, it's very nice, Maur," she nodded, grinning.

Maureen beamed, proud of her creation as she tugged hers on over her head. "Put it on. Where's Mark?"

"Angel's still working on him," Astin replied, flexing his fingers.

"Well, he better hurry up," Maureen sighed, grabbing a tube of mascara and layering it on her lashes. "I have his t-shirt."

Joanne bit her lip as she tugged on her own t-shirt. "Maur, your shirts are great, but uh, I'm not so sure that they'll match the look Angel's going for."

"What's wrong with them?" she frowned, combing a brush back through her hair.

"It's just, they're um-"

"They're ugly," Astin coughed, clearing his throat. "Mo, they're bright yellow."

"No shit," she sassed, her hand on her hip. "It's so we stick out. Everyone knows who we're rooting for. We have inside connections."

"Oh, everyone will know," Astin rolled his eyes. "Hey, we better get going. Where's your boyfriend?"

"In the bathroom?" she shrugged. "I dunno."

"Jesus, he takes longer to do his make up than you do."

"Well, Angel and Mark aren't ready yet either," she pointed out, throwing her make up into her purse.

Joanne laughed softly as she helped Maureen, cleaning up the cosmetics. "I wonder what's taking Angel so long."

* * *

"Angel, are you sure all this is necessary?"

Angel tugged a little harder than necessary on a spike of blond hair. "Yes. That's the tenth time you've asked me Marky, and the answer's been the same every time," he scolded gently. Mark shut up and let Angel finish what he deemed as torture. After a few more moments and tugs on his hair, Angel stepped back, his hands propped on his hips. "Done. Check yourself out, baby," he said, gesturing to the mirror.

Mark stood, took a deep breath and stepped in front of the mirror. His jaw dropped slightly at what he saw. Angel had forced him into jeans that were a bit tighter than he normally wore, but they showed off his skinny legs and (he hated to admit it) ass nicely. The bright blue shirt matched his eyes and was unbuttoned to the second hole, showing off his jutting collarbone. Behind his glasses, his eyes stood out a bit more with the light ring of black eyeliner around them. Angel had spiked his hair, then mussed it, giving him a 'just rolled out of bed' look. "Uh…"

Angel stepped up behind him, putting an arm around his waist. "See? Not so bad. I could've dressed you up like me." He giggled at Mark's expression. The filmmaker's eyes has widened, taking in the young drummer's outfit. He was going in drag, his long legs covered with brightly patterned tights under a denim miniskirt. An artfully ripped t-shirt was draped around his shoulders. Angel had done his own makeup, giving himself dark, smoky eyes and dark red lips, the look completed with a black bobbed wig. Deathly high platform heels were on his feet, making him a few inches taller than Mark. He laughed again, squeezing Mark's hip gently. "Don't worry Mark. You don't have the legs to wear a mini like this." With that, he turned from the mirror, strutting to the door. "Come on, baby, time to make your debut…"

Mark took a deep breath and followed Angel, taking comfort in her encouraging smile. Maybe this would be a new start after all.

* * *

"Where the fuck is Angel? We have to go on in five minutes!"

Astin calmly sat on the couch, blowing on his freshly painted nails. "Calm down, Roger. He'll be out when he's good and ready." Laughter colored his voice. Oh yes, no one could force Angel out early when he was either doing a makeover or doing drag. Combine the two, and nothing short of a fire would budge his Angel.

Roger looked about ready to burst when Angel pushed the door open. "Shut up, pretty boy, I'm here. Let's get this show on the road."

"Wait, where's Mark?"

"He's out in the house with Maur and Jo. He's filming, remember?" Angel tugged on his skirt, twirling a drumstick in his fingers. "Come on, boys, let's show them what we're made of." Roger and Astin grinned at him.

"Let's." Roger started his way out to the stage. Astin stood and offered his arm to Angel. With a smile, she took it, and they followed Roger, equal amounts of nervous butterflies in their bellies.

* * *

Maureen stood anxiously beside Mark, her hand wrapped tightly around the sleeve of his shirt, shaking him every so often. The last act had just finished and the judges had decided to take a fifteen minute break to decide. A few techies began clearing off the stage so the acts could jam on stage to hear the winner. The wait was driving her nuts and so, she was driving everyone else nuts.

"What the fuck is taking them so long?" she asked for the fourth time in the past three minutes.

"Maureen," Mark fussed as she shook him again. "I'm going to drop my camera."

"Mo, give the kid a break, it's not his fault," Joanne cried, grabbing Maureen's arm and freeing the cameraman from her death grip.

"Thanks," Mark chuckled softly, clutching his camera close to his chest.

"They're so gonna win, right Jo?" Maureen asked, clinging now to Joanne, eyes scanning the room for any sign of the judges.

"Of course they're gonna win," Joanne laughed. "Look at these fantastic shirts. Who has better groupies?"

"Joanne, seriously," she fussed, still scanning the room. "Hey, who's that?"

"Who's who?" Joanne asked, trying to follow her gaze.

"Over there, sitting down, well, now he's standing… hat and glasses…"

"Collins," Joanne murmured. "Isn't it?"

"Huh?" Mark asked, his head whipping up, nearly dropping his camera.

"Tom Collins," Joanne repeated a little louder. "Teacher."

"Where?" Mark asked, stretching to see.

"Over there, getting a drink," she said, pointing over.

"Oh," Mark nodded, his cheeks burning. He was glad the club was poorly lit, making it difficult to see much of anything.

"Wonder what he's doing here," Joanne murmured, turning her attention away.

_What is he doing here?_ Mark wondered. Did he know he was here? Was he hoping to see him? Did he come just to see him?

"Roger mentioned it to him," Maureen said, looking back at the stage. "He let him out of detention early to go practice."

"And by 'practice' you mean fool around," Joanne teased, grinning.

Mark sighed, slightly relieved that he knew why Collins had come. It had nothing to do with him. So why did he feel the sting of disappointment? Before he could dwell on the strange feeling too long, Maureen had grabbed him again and begun shaking him.

"They're going to announce the winners! They're going to announce the winners!" she shouted, causing Mark to wince and rub his ear as the bands began filing back onto the stage.

Mark flipped open his camera and powered up, pointing it back at the stage. Roger and Astin trudged out, sporting the punk rocker look while Angel fluttered out behind, twirling his wig around his finger, grinning from ear to ear. Mark chuckled softly as she winked over at him, his cheeks flushing again.

"Alright, alright, get on with it," Maureen bounced impatiently as the judges began to read off the names of the bands once again. "Let's go!"

"So in third place, the Blackbirds!"

The crowd went crazy, lights flashed and girls screamed.

"Yeah, yeah, clap clap, scream, whoop-de-doo," Maureen said, waving her hand as if to fast forward the speech. Joanne laughed loudly, clapping her hands as Maureen bounced impatiently.

"In second place…"

Roger could feel his insides twisting as the judge hesitated. Third place was already gone. They had to win something. He could hear Angel muttering something in Spanish under his breath, his heels clicking lightly on the ground.

"Proceed With Caution!"

A fake smile flickered across Roger's lips, his stomach tightening. There was only one place left. Maureen bit down hard on her lip, gripping Mark's arm even tighter. Mark didn't even notice the lack of blood flow to his arm as he filmed anxiously. They had to win, they just had to.

"And in first place…"

A soft drum roll played in the background, bright lights burning in Roger's eyes, sweat beads building under his nose and on the back of his neck. Even Joanne was nervous, biting her thumb nail as the judge drew it out.

"First place goes to… The Well Hungarians!"

Maureen let out a loud scream Roger could hear over all of the other fans as Angel jumped up and down beside him, holding onto both of the boys' arms. Mark grinned from ear to ear, ignoring the dull ache in his ear from Maureen's constant screaming and the grand finale screech.

"Five hundred dollars and an hour of recording time at Ricky's Records will be awarded to the band. Congratulations!"

Slowly the other bands began to filter off the stage as Maureen plowed her way through the crowd towards her boyfriend, whom she'd seen many other girls ogle that night. She climbed up on stage and pummeled Roger, kissing him deeply while the other two embraced and received the prize.

* * *

Angel laughed when he saw Maureen jumping on Roger. Knowing he would be occupied for a few moments, he tugged Astin over to the announcer to collect their envelopes. Angel let out another triumphant cry as Astin grabbed him around the waist and swung him around. The smaller boy stumbled against his chest, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss. Astin kissed him back deeply, holding him close. There were quite a few catcalls from the crowd, most of them being groans from girls who were crushing on Astin. The blond pulled away from his boyfriend and waved to the crowd, laughing. Moments later, they were offstage with Maureen and Roger, heading towards the back of the club to meet up with Mark and Joanne.

People patted them on the back, shouting congratulations as they wove through the crowd. Angel was beaming, unused to this kind of acceptance from a crowd. There were even a few comments from girls they passed about his killer outfit. Astin smiled happily. He loved to see his Angel this happy. He knew that Angel was usually uncomfortable in crowds, but this… he was thriving on this. Looping an arm around his boyfriend, Astin pulled him close and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Love you, mon amour," he whispered into his ear, bringing a sweet smile to his lips. He didn't know how anything could ruin this perfect night.

* * *

Collins had shouted triumphantly when Roger's band was announced as the winner. _Good for him_, he thought. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, the hot club making him sweat and therefore, making his glasses slip down. Why the fuck had he worn them in the first place? This was a club for all ages. Just because it was an event that catered more to his students than to people his age didn't mean he had no right to be there. With a shake of his head, he slipped the sunglasses off, stuffing them in his pocket along with the dark purple knit cap he had thrown on over his short hair.

Against his better judgment, Collins decided to step out onto the dance floor. He wouldn't dance with anyone he recognized, in case they were his students. He was pretty sure that none of the kids would report him if they saw him here. Everyone seemed to love him for being the cool, young teacher who let them get away with a lot of stuff that the older teachers wouldn't. Collins did try to keep a level of friendship with his kids, but he also made sure that respect was there too. Kids wouldn't cross him, for fear that they would be reported for making out in the halls or lingering in the stairs on their way to class.

Thinking of that, he found a corner of the floor, starting to move to the beat. He scanned the crowd, looking around for someone who looked older and caught his eye. There. A head of blond hair stood out from everyone else. Collins made his way over to the young man, judging him to be about 19 or 20, certainly not one of his students. The way his shirt clung to his thin chest and his pants to his well-shaped bottom, he had to be out of high school. That decided, he came up behind the shorter man, resting his hands on his hips lightly. The younger man looked over his shoulder a little, a pretty red flush on his cheeks. Collins kept a bit of distance between their bodies, leaving him room to get away. His decision to do so was null a moment later, as the man backed up against him, pressing his back against Collins's chest.

Collins felt heat rise in him and pulled the man closer. His head bent down a bit, smelling the fruity scent of whatever gel he had used to spike his hair. Oh but this felt amazing. Collins couldn't remember the last time he had danced like this with someone in a club and enjoyed it this much. He ran his hands up his ribs, feeling the bones through the smooth silk. Pale hands reached back, resting on the back of his head.

Unable to resist any longer, Collins turned the boy around in his arms, one hand dropping down to his ass. He froze mid-movement. His eyes widened almost comically as the boy in front of him looked up with equally wide eyes behind black frames. "Mark?!"

* * *

"Wasn't that fantastic?" Maureen exclaimed as they filtered out onto the dance floor. "It was so great! Amazing! Baby, you're so good!"

Roger grinned, his arm tight around her waist. "Thanks, Maur," he murmured into her ear, kissing her jaw line. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and neck, tipping her head back slightly, her hips swaying to the music.

"Come on, baby, let's dance," she grinned, peeling off her bright yellow t-shirt and tucking it into her back pocket, leaving her black tank top on.

Roger nodded quickly, holding on tightly to her hips as she backed up onto the dance floor, finger wiggling at him, beckoning him forward. Joanne laughed at the couple as she followed, staying close by and moving to the music as well. A pretty red head moved towards the brainiac, tight green dress sticking to her as she moved, wiggling her way towards Joanne. Her cheeks flushed slightly as the red head's arms slipped around her waist from behind, tugging her close and grinding against her.

Angel grabbed onto Astin as soon as he'd tucked the prize away in his pocket and kissed him deeply. Astin groaned softly against his lips, his arms wrapping tightly around his waist, holding him close.

"Let's go dance," Angel whispered into his ear, nipping at it playfully, provoking a groan from his boyfriend.

"I want to, baby, I do. I gotta get a smoke real quick and then I'm all yours, alright?"

"Sure," Angel shrugged, smiling. "Let me grab my jacket and I'll meet you outside, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Astin grinned, kissing his lips once more before heading outside.

He inhaled deeply, sighing into the chilly night air. The bass from the music inside was pumping up through the sidewalk and up into Astin's sneakers as he fished around in his pocket for a lighter. Rounding the building, Astin leaned up against the wall, pulling out two cigarettes from his packet. He slipped one in between his lips, the other sliding behind his ear as he flicked his lighter and cupped the smoke, setting it ablaze. Astin pushed off from the wall, pacing slowly, recounting the night's events in his head, smiling. He couldn't have asked for a better evening. They played a damn good show, they'd won five hundred dollars and recording time, and he had Angel.

The soft thump of shoes on pavement clicked lightly behind him. He grinned, back to the sidewalk, waiting for Angel to pounce on him from behind. He'd let Angel surprise him tonight.

* * *

"Maur, I'm going outside for a minute, okay? Astin is gonna have a smoke," Angel shouted to the brunette. "Separate from Roger for a second and tell me you heard me."

"Alright baby," Maureen shouted, tipping her head back to look at Angel while Roger gently attacked her neck. "Come back soon."

"Yeah, okay," she grinned. "You won't notice I'm gone."

"Sure I will," she shouted as Angel weaved through the crowd towards the door.

Maureen took a moment to catch her breath and survey the crowd. Joanne and the red head were grooving nearby, the red head whispering into Joanne's ear causing Joanne to giggle, her hands roaming lower. Angel and Astin had just slipped outside and Mark… was nowhere to be seen.

"Rog, where's Mark?" she asked, pulling his head up to meet hers.

"I honestly have no idea," he murmured, panting slightly. "Why?"

"I see Joanne. Astin and Ang went for a smoke. I can't find Mark."

"We'll find him before we leave," Roger shrugged. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Roger, he's the new kid. What if some girl… or guy is molesting him? And he can't find us? Come on…"

Roger held his breath, eyes looking up into hers, pleading to let him stay on the dance floor with her in his arms. "Alright," he exhaled. "We'll go find Mark."

"Thanks," she grinned, grabbing onto his hand and dragging him off the floor.

The couple wandered for a bit, Maureen's eyes peeled for Mark. She paused a bit, examining a few of the other outfits on the floor, always asking Roger if hers was better, before getting back on track.

"Hey, look, I think that's him!" she exclaimed, pointing to a scrawny blond kid.

"No way," Roger shook his head. "He's dancing with some guy. An older guy. Not him."

"Yes, yes it is," she insisted, moving closer. "Angel did his hair like Astin's. Mark! Mark!" She gasped softly. "_Mark!" _she whispered, clamping her hand over her mouth. "Roger! Look!"

"What? Oh… oh… isn't that?"

"Collins!"

* * *

Angel stepped out into the back alley, heels clicking on the pavement. He shoved his hands in his pockets, humming one of their songs softly. He couldn't imagine how he could be any happier in this moment. Looking down the alley, he scanned the walls for the slim shape of his boyfriend, probably with a cloud of silver smoke blurring his blond hair. Angel frowned when he didn't see anyone. "Astin?" he called softly, walking a few more steps. "Compi? Donde estas, chico?"

He continued walking down, a bit more nervous now. Where the hell had he gotten to? "Astin?" he called again, a bit of a shrill creeping into his voice.

In the next moment, his entire body went cold. "Shit! Astin!" Angel's heels thumped on the pavement as he ran towards the crumpled form of his boyfriend. His stomach rolled when the combined scent of alley filth and blood hit his nostrils. Liquid warmth seeped into his tights when he dropped to his knees. Angel couldn't think about what he was kneeling in without his stomach threatening to expel its contents. He picked up his boyfriend's head and cradled it in his lap, calling his name softly, urgently.

"Astin, baby, please, open your eyes, please…" He keened, stroking the stained blond locks out of his eyes. To his slight relief, Astin's eyes fluttered open… or they would have, had one of them not been swollen shut. "Astin, compi, what happened?"

"Ang… I don't…" His eye fell shut, blood now trickling over it from a cut on his forehead. Angel cried out again, rubbing Astin's cheeks gently.

"No, baby, please wake up…" Angel's eyes overflowed, warm tears falling down his face. He shifted, keeping Astin's head in his lap as he fished his cell out of his pocket. Quickly, he managed to send a short text to Roger, his hands shaking the entire time. Once the message had sent, he dropped the phone on the concrete and continued to beg Astin to open his eyes, not caring about the blood rapidly staining his skirt.


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay, we found Mark," Roger said, shuddering slightly. "And he's obviously… occupied," he shuddered again. "Can we please go dance?"

"Roger! Mark is dancing with Collins! That's scandalous!" Maureen cried.

"If they know that we saw them, Collins could be in big trouble," Roger pointed out. "He's already in big trouble. Can we please go dance? Please?"

"Oh fine," Maureen sighed, allowing Roger to drag her back onto the dance floor. Roger grinned, pulling her close, grinding his hips against hers. He leaned in to kiss her once more when he felt his pants vibrating. He groaned and fished around in his pocket for the cell phone, flipping it open while Maureen clung to him, reading over his shoulder.

"Maur, we gotta go outside," Roger said quickly, a slight panic in his voice. "Come on."

"Wait, what's going on?" she asked, not having finished reading the message.

"Come on, outside, now," he demanded. "Joanne!"

Roger reached over and plucked the girl from the grasp of her dance partner and instructed her to find Mark and meet them outside – it was an emergency. He grabbed onto Maureen's hand and dragged her out of the club, his brow wrinkled in worry.

"Roger, what is going on?" she asked, panting as they stumbled onto the sidewalk.

"Angel?!" Roger shouted, whipping his head around. "ANGEL!"

A soft whimper reached Maureen's ears accompanied by a sniffle and a sob. Grabbing Roger's hand, she crept around the side of the building. Her eyes widened, jaw dropping onto the pavement as she stopped short.

"Astin! Roger, call 911!"

Maureen scrambled over to Angel's side, her heart thumping wildly against her rib cage, unable to speak while Roger frantically jabbed at the keypad, waiting for an answer.

"Maureen! Roger!"

"Over here!" Maureen shouted, her voice sounding strangely distant, like it was coming from someone else.

Joanne came barreling around the corner, hauling Mark by the scruff of his shirt. "What the fuck is going on?" she asked, a frenetic look on her face.

"It's Astin," Maureen murmured quickly, resting her hand on Angel's shoulder, who had yet to say anything since they'd arrived.

"The paramedics are coming," Roger said, rushing back over. "They'll be here shortly."

"Ang, what happened?" Maureen asked, staring intently at her friend.

But Angel didn't speak as he held Astin's head in his lap, staring down at his bloody face while voices shouted and sirens blared around him.

Mark stood quietly in the corner, watching in horror as the paramedics finally came, this night being one of the most interesting and horrifying nights he'd had in a long time.

* * *

All he could see was the bright red blood darkening the pale blond hair he knew so well. His lips mouthed Astin's name over and over, silently begging him to wake the fuck up and not be hurt anymore. Angel stroked the bangs away from his forehead, leaving a faint red smear on the otherwise flawless skin. The voices of his friends swirled around him and he didn't understand a word. Sirens blared in his ears, lights flashed over them, turning the almost translucent skin of his boyfriend blue and red. Then he felt someone tugging on Astin's broken body, trying to take him away. Angel held tighter to Astin. "No…" he murmured. He heard Roger saying his name, telling Angel to let the paramedics take Astin, they could help him. Then Roger tugged on his shoulder.

Angel whipped his head around. "No!" he screamed, tears finally spilling angrily out of his eyes. Roger looked down at him, face pale.

"Ang, come on…"

Broken, crying and covered in his boyfriend's blood, Angel carefully rose to his feet, the paramedics taking his boyfriend away. Joanne patted Angel's shoulder as she passed to climb into the back of the ambulance.

Roger wrapped his arms around Angel, drawing his somewhat unresponsive body close. Angel stood still for a moment, frozen in shock before gut-wrenching sobs ripped out of his chest, tears falling in a new storm. Maureen watched from a few feet away, wiping away her own tears, a bit of blood on her own jeans. Even Mark had to wipe away a tear after hearing Angel's wordless anguish. Roger though, stood firm for him, merely rubbing his back as he let him cry.

"Angel, Angel…" The drummer pulled back, a haunted look in his brown eyes. "We have to go to the hospital. Astin needs you, okay?" A spark of resolve flickered in Angel's eyes. He nodded, wiping his cheeks. Without another word, Roger took Angel under one arm and Maureen under the other, Mark trailing along behind the trio as they headed to the hospital.

* * *

The hospital waiting room was a strange atmosphere. Mark sat alone, a seat between him and Roger. He had drawn his knees up, resting his chin on them, watching the other people watch them. A small family sat in the corner, excitement about a new baby bubbling among them. A lone black woman sat near them. She twisted her wedding ring nervously, eyes flicking to the door every time she heard footsteps. Mark wondered what she was here for. It might have been easy to guess, but he couldn't do it. Not with all the things kicking around in his head. Grief, confusion, anger, worry… God, how could he keep anything straight right now?

A small sob reached his ears and instantly he felt contrite. If he could barely think, he couldn't even begin to imagine how poor Angel was. He was still in his bloodstained skirt and tights, heels discarded on the floor near him. Maureen and Roger sat on either side of him, their arms about him. Angel had his head on Maureen's shoulder, the occasional tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Joanne was on Maureen's other side, a half-filled form in her lap. She kept trying to fill in the spaces she knew about Astin, but her hands were shaking too much to hold the pen for more than ten seconds.

Nobody had said anything since they arrived. Mark cleared his throat awkwardly, catching Roger's attention. "Um… should we call his parents?"

Roger shook his head, eyes rimmed with red, though they remained dry. "They're in France. Anyway, they couldn't care less about Ast. We're all he's got. Angel… Angel's all he's got." The guitarist rubbed Angel's shoulder gently. Mark didn't think Roger was… unemotional, but he had never expected this kind of loyalty and comfort from him. It was a pleasant surprise.

Mark returned to his curled up position, staring at the wall. A doctor walked in and went over to the single black woman. She listened for a moment, and then collapsed in tears. Mark felt the same stomach-jolting feeling he had earlier when Angel first sobbed. For the thousandth time that night, he wondered why the hell life had to hurt people who didn't deserve such pain at all.

* * *

Roger sighed softly as he glanced up at the clock once more, seeing that a mere five minutes had passed since the last time he'd looked. Angel had calmed down quite a bit considering, Maureen was nodding off beside him and Joanne had managed to finish filling out the paperwork and was now doodling absent mindedly along the top of the paper. Mark was still curled up in a ball, staring off into space, clutching his camera to his chest.

"Who's here for Astin James?"

Maureen's head snapped up as the voice spoke, eyes searching for the speaker. "We are," she murmured groggily.

A young woman dressed in white carrying a clipboard walked towards the group, all of whom were now anxiously stirring, Angel sitting straight up, nearly falling off the chair in anticipation. The woman perched on the edge of the coffee table, her dark hair twisted back into a braid as she looked at the group of kids.

"Well, I'll put your minds at ease," she murmured softly. "Astin is going to be fine."

Maureen let out a sigh, burying her face in her hands, Mark dropped his knees and almost smiled. Roger shook Angel gently, a grin cracking on his lips.

"Ang, did you hear that?" Roger asked, watching as Angel gave no reaction.

"Have Astin's parents been contacted?" the doctor asked.

Roger shook his head, turning his attention from Angel. "They're not in the country."

"I've filled out the form," Joanne piped up, handing the clipboard to the woman. "The best we could."

"Thank you," she nodded, taking the form. "Were you all with Astin when the accident happened?"

"He went out to have a smoke," Angel murmured, his voice weak. "I went out after him… and I found him."

Maureen reached over and grabbed onto his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We were at Dizzy's," she began. "For the battle of the bands. Roger, Angel and Astin play together. They won the contest," she smiled. "Afterwards we went to dance. Astin told Angel he needed a smoke. Angel came over and told me they were going to go outside and followed him out. When he got out there, he was on the ground. That right, Ang?"

Angel nodded slowly, staring at a particularly large spot on the tile under his foot.

"And he texted Roger and we all came out. He was unconscious by then. Roger called the ambulance. Joanne rode with him, we walked. That's it."

The doctor, who'd been busy scribbling notes, looked up at Angel. "I'm going to call the police, report the attack. They'll probably want to question the lot of you. In the meantime, you can visit if you'd like. He's not awake yet, but I'm sure he'd enjoy the company."

"Thanks," Roger nodded as the doctor stood, pointing them in the direction of Astin's room. "You guys ready?"

Maureen nodded and helped Angel to his feet, following after Roger, Joanne close behind. Mark lingered in the chair, a wave of relief rushing over him. He was still slightly shocked by the events of the evening and for a moment, the memory of dancing in the club, Collins' arms around him, flashed through his mind. He'd felt strangely safe with Collins, but quickly shook it from his mind and rushed off down the hall, tagging after Joanne.

* * *

Astin groaned softly. What the hell had he done to himself this time? He felt like he'd been hit with a truck, run over with a motorcycle and then put in a dumpster before it was beaten with multiple baseball bats: that's how fucking bad his head hurt. He groaned again but didn't open his eyes. Something soothing was chanting his name… it was a moment before he recognized it as his Angel's voice. "Angel?" he muttered groggily, squeezing the hand in his gently.

"Yes, compi, it's me… please open your eyes?" Astin slowly obeyed, wincing at the harsh light. What… the hell. He'd never woken up in a hospital room without knowing why before. Angel sat at his side, one hand clutching his. Maureen and Roger stood behind Angel, clinging to each other. Joanne was perched at the end of his bed, and Mark sat awkwardly in a chair by the door. "Astin?"

Astin cracked a small smile for his obviously distressed boyfriend. "Baby… what happened?"

Angel's eyes widened a bit. "You… you don't remember?"

Astin closed his eyes again, trying to remember. As if watching a movie, the scenes unfolded in his mind. The faces of the guys. The taunts and slurs, the sound of their fists and feet hitting his body. The harsh bite of their fucking laughter as they walked away, completely untroubled by what they did. Unconsciously, his free hand curled into a fist. "Yeah… now I do…"

Angel rubbed the back of his hand worriedly. "Ast, there's… there's some police officers here, they want to question you… Are you up for that?"

Astin nodded, wincing as the movement made his head throb even more. "Yeah," he rasped, coughing a bit. "Let's get that over with."

Roger looked at Mark, who nodded slightly before leaving. A tense air settled in the small, crowded room. Maureen was uncharacteristically quiet, merely holding tightly to her boyfriend's hand. Joanne played with the end of her sleeve nervously. And Roger, well… Roger was staring off into space, a hard look set onto his sharp features. The look kind of scared Astin, but at the same time, he felt bad for the guys who had done this. Roger looked ready to kick some major ass on his account.

Mark came back in, followed by two people, a man and a woman. The woman pulled Mark's chair from by the door to the bed, sitting next to Astin, looking at him critically. "Hey, Astin, I'm Detective Grey. That's my partner, Detective Lawrence. We've gotta ask you a few questions… would you rather do this in private?" Astin shook his head, holding tight to Angel's hand. "Okay. Do you remember what happened tonight?"

Astin took in a deep breath. "Well… I left these guys in the club to go out back and smoke. I was in the alley alone and I lit up. I heard footsteps and I thought they were Angel, so I didn't turn around. Next thing I knew, I had been punched across the jaw and kicked in the shins. I fell, and they all surrounded me. They kicked me and hit me, calling me names the whole time. Cocksucker. Fairy. Faggot. They even went so far as to insult Angel… they called him a cross-dressing freak. I tried to get up, to fight back, but I was outnumbered… They gave up after a few minutes, after I stopped yelling in pain as much. The bastards walked away laughing. I passed out before they were out of the alley. I remember seeing Angel for a moment, then I woke up here."

Detective Grey looked up from her nearly full pad of paper. "And who were 'they?'"

"The assholes from Proceed With Caution. The band that won second. They didn't like the fact that they lost to a tranny, his queer boyfriend and a pretty boy guitarist. So… they took it out on me."

Angel's eyes were bright with tears as he heard the story. The detectives asked around the room, getting the same story from each of them. Even when Angel was being questioned, his eyes never left Astin. It was almost as if Angel thought if he kept looking, he would be okay. Astin met his boyfriend's eyes, trying to reassure him with a look. When that didn't work, he squeezed his hand gently.

* * *

"Mark, wanna go grab some coffee?"

Mark's head lifted slowly from the chair he'd reacquired once the detectives had left, staring up into Maureen's face.

"Rog and I were gonna go grab something from the cafeteria. Wanna come?"

Mark really didn't want to move, but the look on Maureen's face told him he probably should join. "Yeah, alright," he nodded, yawning softly. "Coffee sounds good."

"Jo?"

"Sure," she nodded. "Ang, you want anything?"

Angel shook his head, still perched on the bed beside Astin, squeezing his hand, eyes never leaving his. Joanne nodded before following the other three out and down to the cafeteria.

"We'll bring something back for him," Maureen murmured as they wandered to the machine.

Sitting down at a small circular table, neither of the four had much to say. Mark didn't blame them, what could anyone say to lighten the mood? Astin was okay, but he'd been bashed by homophobes. That wasn't something that happened every day. He sipped his coffee slowly, staring off into space, watching the other three peripherally.

Maureen snuggled against Roger, staring at the white Styrofoam cup in front of her, remaining unusually quiet. She tucked a curl back behind her ear, raising her glance to Mark and then Joanne before sighing softly. Roger wrapped his arm tightly around his girlfriend, not having touched his coffee yet. There was too much to think about. Joanne yawned slowly, leaning back in the plastic chair and stretching. Glancing at her clock, her eyes widened. It was well past curfew.

"We might want to think about heading home soon," she announced, breaking the awkward silence. "It's about three thirty. I'm going to go call my mum. You're all welcome to spend the night."

Maureen nodded, the only of the three to give a response as Joanne left the table to make the call. She cleared her throat and leaned back against Roger. She was lucky – her boyfriend had come out of the contest physically unharmed. Angel was tough and for that, Maureen envied him very much.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark walked through the front doors of the high school, eyes fastened on the ground. His feet shuffled over the tiled floors and made strange sounds that echoed off of the walls of the empty hall. It had seemed like he really could start over, like he really had a chance to escape what had happened before. Now… he didn't know what to think. Even though he knew that none of this was his fault, he couldn't help but think that maybe… maybe he was just bad luck. Maybe this had happened to Astin and Angel and Roger because he arrived. Hell, he'd fucked up his own life enough to know that he just attracted bad things. Perhaps now his bad luck had decided to pass on to other people.

It was with these thoughts that Mark walked aimlessly through the school, not paying attention to where he was walking. As a consequence, Mark found himself running into a broad, warm male chest as he rounded a corner. "Oh, I'm…" The blond paused when he saw just who he had run into. Fuck. The second-to-last person he wanted to see in that moment. First would have been Benny, for obvious reasons. Second was… "C-Collins," he stuttered, reaching up to adjust his glasses nervously.

For reasons he couldn't understand, Collins seemed just as jittery as Mark suddenly did. "Good morning, Mark," he murmured in a low voice. God help him, but Mark found himself melting a little when he heard that voice. Ever since that night, he couldn't stop thinking about the teacher and how good he felt in his arms. Then, inevitably, his thoughts would drift to events later that night. Mark had watched Angel and Astin, and Maureen and Roger and how just the touch of one of them could comfort the other. Mark craved that. He wanted someone who could ease his state of mind with one brush of skin. He wanted… Collins.

Mark felt himself getting teary-eyed as he remembered Astin lying in that alley, broken and bleeding, Angel's cry of despair when they tried to take him away. Collins noticed and tilted his head, concerned. "Mark? Is everything okay?" Mark didn't notice the hand that raised an inch from Collins's side, as if he were going to touch the blond's cheek.

He shook his head. "No… something h-happened this weekend… I just need to talk about it." He looked up at Collins, blue eyes pleadingly wide behind his glasses. Collins's hand moved again, the motion stopped before it could get too far. The teacher nodded, much to Mark's relief. Wordlessly, he dropped a light arm around his shoulders, leading him back to his classroom.

* * *

Maureen sighed softly as she dropped down onto a patch of grass outside of the cafeteria, dropping her bag beside her, her lunch in her lap. Almost everyone was eating inside now, the chilly winds of autumn driving the short skirt wearing girls to the cafeteria tables and the short skirt chasing boys to follow. The large crowd of people inside didn't look too appealing and so she sat sipping her diet coke, the turkey wrap lying untouched beside her as Roger wandered over.

"Hey," he murmured softly, sitting down beside her. "I looked everywhere inside. What are you doing out here?"

She shrugged, eyes following the crisp brown leaves as they floated around the pavement a few feet away. "Didn't want to eat inside. It's crowded. No good tables."

Roger nodded, carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulder before kissing her temple. "It's nice out, anyway," he added.

"I was gonna drive Ang over to the hospital after school. Wanna come?"

Roger nodded, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Of course."

"Speak of the devil," Maureen grinned, looking up as Angel scuffed over. "Hi baby."

Angel nodded and smiled, though it was tight and brief, looking almost forced. Usually he would have at least giggled at Maureen's attempt at a joke, but today he was rather quiet.

"Hey, Rog is gonna come with us this afternoon, okay?"

Angel nodded, absent mindedly opening his salad and stirring it around with his fork. Roger coughed and tugged out a cigarette, trying to occupy himself while they ate - or didn't eat - in silence.

"Where's Mark?" Angel finally broke the silence.

Maureen and Roger shrugged simultaneously, Maureen picking at the wrap around her turkey, Roger taking the last puff before snuffing it out on the sidewalk beside him.

"He spends a lot of his time in the computer lab," Maureen pointed out.

Now both Roger and Angel nodded before the trio fell back into silence.

"I've gotta piss," Roger grunted before disappearing back into the building.

"How you doin' babe?" Maureen asked, reaching over and giving Angel's hand a squeeze.

"Johnson!"

Maureen groaned, rolling her eyes before taking a huge bite of her wrap. "What?" she shouted back, mouth full.

"Oh, that's real hot, babe," Benny grinned, abandoning his group of stooges over by the basket ball court and sauntering over towards her. "Bet that gets Davis all riled up."

"Go to hell," she grumbled, swallowing hard.

"Heard about the little incident this weekend," he continued, ignoring her last comment as he squatted down beside the pair.

Maureen glared up at him before taking another bite and chewing obnoxiously loud, mouth open. "Yeah?"

"Heard James got it pretty bad."

"Did you just come here to give me a play by play of the weekend from hell I just lived?"

"Woah, woah," he chuckled, waving his hands. "Calm down. You know who did it?"

"Kind of," she shrugged, looking over at Angel who hadn't moved since Benny arrived. His eyes were glued to the cucumber drenched in ranch that was balancing on his fork.

"What're you doing, Coffin?"

Maureen sighed as Roger wandered back, his hands forming fists, clenching and unclenching.

"Calm down," Benny instructed, returning to his feet. "Was just… talking."

Roger glanced over at Angel, who was still frozen, and then to Maureen, who rolled her eyes, before stepping toward Benny. "Why don't you run back to your stoolies, Coffin? They, for some God forsaken reason, seem to enjoy your company."

Benny exhaled slowly, his face dropping as he nodded and stepped backwards. "Right. Well, just wanted to say… I'm sorry about what happened. Hope everything works out…" he drifted off as Roger glared at him and turned quickly, walking back towards Mimi and the others.

"You okay Ang?" Roger asked, sitting back down beside Maureen.

Angel nodded quickly, gripping his fork tighter, trying to stab the cucumber that had fallen off. "I'm uh… gonna get to class. See you after last block, Maur."

And with that, Angel scooped up his plastic container of garden greens and his messenger bag and dashed off in the direction of the English wing.

* * *

Collins buried his head in his hands with a groan. What the fuck did he think he was doing? No. He couldn't even be thinking about this. There was no way in hell that any of this would work out without breaking someone's heart. Students and teachers were supposed to have good relationships in order to keep a good rapport in the classroom. They were not supposed to be so intrigued by new students that they wanted to find out more about them. They were not supposed to find them even remotely attractive. And they were definitely not supposed to dance with them in a darkened club.

Shit. Now he was back to thinking about that again. Every time he even thought about that night or anything remotely related to it, his mind wandered to that forbidden dance. Collins could recall in perfect detail the way that Mark's body felt against his, how the silk of his shirt made his skin shine, how his hair gel smelt of apples and how fucking much Collins wanted to lean down and capture those soft-looking lips with his own.

"No, a million times no…" he muttered against his arms. It happened again this morning. Mark had come to him, needing a sanctuary. He had resolved to keep the relationship between them purely platonic. But the moment he saw tears brimming in those gorgeous blue eyes, that resolution went straight out the window. He'd led him back to his classroom, arm around his shoulders. It was all he could do to keep from enfolding him in a hug and whispering that everything would be all right. Mark's expressive face kept peering at him, begging him to help resolve this confusion and turmoil swirling in his head.

But he couldn't. Didn't Mark understand that? This couldn't happen. "It can't happen…" he muttered.

"What can't happen?"

Collins's head shot up from his arms at the light, familiar voice. Angel stood in his doorway, a picked-at salad in his hands. He didn't look good at all, pale and drawn beneath his coffee-colored complexion. Fading tearstains decorated his cheeks and his brown eyes were rimmed with red. "Angel? Are you okay?"

He sniffed, a small ironic smile on his lips. "I'm sure you've heard what happened by now. You should know that I'm far from okay." Angel walked over to a front desk and slid into it, lacking any of his former grace. He sighed softly. "But I guess I'm surviving, considering the circumstances."

Collins nodded. "I'm impressed. It took a lot of strength for you to come here today, Ang. Has anyone said anything yet?"

Angel licked his lips, nodding slightly. "Benny."

"Say no more." Collins steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them. "You know Angel, I've never told you, but I admire your guts for being in such an open relationship. I know it's hard under any circumstance, especially high school. You and Ast have a lot of courage."

Angel sighed, a small smile curving his lips. "I love him. He loves me. I'd rather risk the abuse from assholes and everything we have to face than hiding what we share. And someday I hope people will see our relationship for what it is. Love. Something beautiful that everyone should have. It's not something that should be hidden."

Collins listened to the surprisingly wise eighteen-year-old attentively, doubt churning in his stomach. He had the feeling that someday he would need to remember this moment. He had an inkling why he would need to remember, but he couldn't allow himself to think of that. He just couldn't.

* * *

Roger groaned as he approached his History class. He hadn't finished the paper, done the homework, not to mention he'd slept through the past three meetings. He forgot momentarily about the unpleasantness of class when he saw the blond filmmaker rushing towards him, his head down, eyes staring at the floor.

"Mark!"

The kid nearly jumped out of his sneakers and did drop his History book, sending papers flying all over the floor. He squeaked and dropped to the floor quickly like an air raid alarm had just gone off, trying to cover all of his papers at once while the last of the students trampled over him trying to get to class before the bell rang. Roger groaned and hurried forward, dropping to his knees to help Mark pick up the papers just as the bell rang.

"Sorry," Roger chuckled, but Mark failed to find any of this funny. He grimaced as he shoved his papers into his binder.

"We're late," he pointed out very curtly.

"Yes, we are," Roger agreed, failing to find this piece of information important.

"We'll get detention."

"No, I'll get detention. This is only your first time being late. And it's not even that late."

Mark also failed to find this comforting as he scrambled to his feet.

"You alright?" Roger asked, studying his face curiously.

"M'fine," Mark snapped, brushing off his pants.

Roger nodded, not believing the kid for a minute, but didn't feel the need to press for more information. "Hey, I've got an idea."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"Let's skip class all together."

"Skip class?!"

"Yes, but it's not like you say, _skip class?!_ It's not a big deal. I do it all the time. This way you're not in trouble for being late."

"No, you're in trouble for skipping!"

"Mark," Roger sighed, grabbing onto his arm. "You look like you could use a break. This class is complete bullshit anyway. Come on. Let's go grab lunch at Wendy's."

Mark paused, tempted by the offer. "I've already eaten lunch."

"So I'll buy you a Frosty. We'll get fries, you dunk 'em in. It's really good. Angel taught me that trick."

Before Mark could protest, Roger had grabbed him and was steering him in the direction of the back parking lot, out towards his beaten up Sundance.

Once Mark had gotten in, or Roger had forced him in and buckled him down rather, Roger peeled out of the lot as quick as possible before the traffic cop Mrs. MacDonald, or Big Mac as the kids so fondly called her, could say anything. Roger steered Mark inside as well, dropping him down in a booth and returning shortly, carrying two yellow cups and a brown paper bag.

"So how've you been holding up?"

Mark shrugged, taking a fry out of the bag and biting into it. "I dunno. Fine I guess. It's just another school, right?"

"No, I meant about Saturday night," Roger replied, dunking his fry into the thick chocolate shake.

Mark froze for a moment, unable to continue chewing the hot mashed potato. Did Roger know? How did Roger know? Roger knew about how he'd danced with Collins. He'd seen and was probably ready to announce it to the entire school. It would be on the front page of the newspaper, in the morning announcements, everyone in the cafeteria would be talking about how Mark Cohen was having a fling with Collins.

"You know, with Astin and all," Roger continued when he saw Mark was unable to respond.

"Oh," he cleared his throat, swallowing. "Oh, um, I'm alright. It's just kind of… scary, you know?"

"Yeah," Roger nodded. "I know. Maur and Ang and I are going over after school. You wanna come? I'm sure he'd love to have visitors."

"Sure," Mark nodded, picking up another fry.

"And uh… about earlier that night…" Roger paused. "Did you dance at all?"

Mark gulped, his stomach tightening. Just when he thought he was safe… "Uh, yeah, a little…" he shrugged, wiping his fingers on the napkin.

"Mark, Maur and I saw," he admitted, trying hard not to smile.

"Saw what?" he asked nervously, his voice raising as he tried to suck the thick shake up through the straw.

"You… and Collins… dancing…" he laughed.

"S'not funny, I didn't mean to, I didn't know it was him until we were dancing and I don't like him like that. It's not what you think at all."

"Whoa, whoah," Roger cut Mark off, still chuckling. "Calm down. You don't know what I think. Relax. It was probably an honest mistake. Neither of you were really paying attention, thinking it was somebody else… not a big deal."

Mark nodded slowly. "Yeah, right. Exactly."

"But, uh, how was it?"

He choked and nearly spat the contents of his mouth out all over the table. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on, Mark. I've see you around him… you liked it. A little. Right?"

Mark hung his head, closing his eyes. This had to have been one of the most awkward conversations he'd ever had. "Roger, please don't tell anyone, especially not Collins."

"My lips are sealed, Marky," Roger replied, pretending to zip his lips and throw away the key.

"I mean it, Rog, real- what? Really?"

"Really," Roger nodded. "It's none of my business and it's certainly no one else's business."

Mark sighed, rather relieved, and a grin formed on his lips. He picked up another fry and dunked it into the shake. "This is really good."

"Told ya," Roger grinned. "So isn't this better than History class?"

"Absolutely," Mark nodded. "Absolutely."

* * *

Astin sighed and rubbed his temples. These damn detectives had been in here for two hours, asking him the same questions over and over. He knew they were just trying to do their jobs, but was repeated questioning of the victim necessary? He contemplated crying uncle and begging for mercy. Maybe then they'd let him off the hook.

Detective Grey seemed to agree with his feelings. "All right, Astin, this is the last time, I promise. I'm really sorry we've had to ask you over and over again what happened, but we'll be done soon. Just… walk us through it again."

He rolled his eyes. They'd said that before too… twice. "The contest had just finished and we were announced as the winners. All of my friends went out to dance, including my boyfriend. I told him I needed a smoke and then went out to the back alley to have it. Once I was lit up, I heard footsteps coming from behind me. I thought it was Angel -"

"Your boyfriend?" Lawrence interrupted, not even bothering to take notes at this point.

"Yes." He didn't like the way that Lawrence said that, or his tone of voice whenever he referred to Angel. "Anyway, I thought it was Angel but it was those dicks from Proceed With Caution. I'm pretty sure their names are Nico, Dan and Toby. Dan jumped me from behind and tackled me down. Then they started saying how a faggot, a pretty boy and a cross dresser didn't deserve to win the prize. They called me every name in the book while kicking the shit out of me. Then… I guess they got bored of hearing my sounds of pain, so they just laughed at me and left." Astin was staring hard at the end of the bed, retelling the story in a bored monotone.

Grey and Lawrence sensed his resentment in having to repeat himself. Grey got up from the chair by his bed, closing her little notebook as she moved. "Okay, I think we've heard plenty… Astin, we'll be giving you a call when everything gets sorted, okay?" The keyboardist nodded indifferently. The two detectives nodded and headed out the door, running into a group of people as they did so.

Astin grinned when he saw his boyfriend leading his friends in. "Hey, mon amour," he said softly, reaching for Angel. He tugged the smaller boy onto his bed beside him, kissing his temple. "And everyone else," he added with a grin. They all took their positions of the previous night: Mark in the chair by the door, Roger in the other chair and Maureen on his lap. "How was everyone's day?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

It worked. The other four grinned, albeit dimly. "That good, huh?" he provided.

Angel snuggled close to him. "I missed you. People were being dicks…" he murmured.

Astin looked at his boyfriend for a moment before turning concerned eyes to Roger. "What happened?"

"Benny. He wasn't trying to be a dick… for once. But it came out that way," Maureen piped up.

"Whoa… he wasn't trying to be a dick? That's a first…" Roger tightened his arms around his girl, kissing her neck gently.

Angel smirked softly, a hint of his playfulness returning to his face. "I think he just has a crush on Maureen," he murmured, anticipating the rocker's reaction. Astin squeezed his shoulder and held him closer, an amused smile on his lips.

Roger, on the other hand, just growled. "He better not be eyeing my girl…" he said lowly, still holding Maureen possessively. The pair on the bed just laughed when Maureen turned in Roger's lap to kiss him deeply, assuring him that she wasn't going anywhere. Mark joined in on their mirth, though there was a shadow in his eyes about something. Astin noted it and decided to ask him about it later, but for now, he was enjoying the company and laughter of his friends.


End file.
